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POEMS ^^^^ SKETCHES, 



PeMINISCENCES of the "OLD 34TH." 



Bv WILLIAM H. CLARK, 

CHAPLAIN POST 6, DEPT. MASS., G. A. R. 



AUG 181890" 

-^. ■'•cwiivjQ-ror 
Safeeticttj presiSE: " 

Lakeview Printing Co., South Framingham, jNIass. 
1890. 



-f 6 1 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year iSgo, 

By WILLIAM H. CLARK, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



TD 

BENJAMIN HARRISON, 
•President of the United States, 

THIS little volume is 

[by special permission] 

GRATEFULLY DEDICATED 

By the Author. 



PART 



ORIGINAL POEMS. 



WHERE SOLDIERS SLEEP. 



THE chiselled shafts of purest stone, 
The stately cenotaph — alone — 
The mossy cypress trunks; the yew ; 
That in " God's Acre " silent grew — 
These are the sentinels who keep 
Their faithful watch where soldiers sleep. 

The little flags that, faded, fly, 
And bravely greet an April sky — 
[Like battle flags, by heroes borne, 
They faced the winter's wrack and storm] 
These, too, are sentinels who keep 
And guard the spot where soldiers sleep. 

The church-spires tall, in slender grace. 
That point to skies enthroned in space ; 
Whose shadows kiss and guard each grave 
When sinks the sun beneath the wave ; 
These all are sentinels that keep 
The sacred ground where soldiers sleep. 



MEMORIAL HYMN. 



MEMORIAL HYMN. 



COME we now, with reverent tread, 
Where repose our silent dead : 
For the love they bore our land 
Now before their shrines we stand — 
Not for them to serve today — 
Low we bend, above their clay — 
While our sacred banner waves, 
Strew sweet blossoms on their graves. 

Once they bore, with loyal pride, 
That proud flag for which they died — 
Once were fields by valor won, 
Held by them at set of sun — 
Once in bivouac at night. 
Saw their homes in visions bright — 
Sadly now our banner waves ; 
Blossoms sweet bedeck their graves. 

Now to thee, our sovereign Lord, 
Low we bend, to hear Thy word : 
Let our comrades' memory dear, 
Brighten with each fleeting year — 
Lessons in our hearts instil ; 
Loyal, true, we learn Thy will — 
So, in peace, our banner waves, 
While sweet flowers adorn their graves. 



DECORATION DAY. 



DECORATION DAY. 



I SAW a Nation bending low, 
To deck ten thousand graves, 
And heard the patriot speaker's voice, 

From where the Hudson laves 
Its beauteous banks, to Kansas fair, 

And this I heard him say : 
" For what he was and all he dared, 
Remember him today." 

And wider still the tide of praise, 

In grateful, reverent strains, 
From eastern Maine to farthest bound 

Of California's plains, 
Swelled the deep waves of rhythmic sound,' 

A grand memorial lay : 
" For what he was and all he dared, 

Remember him today^." 

So, while our mighty Nation lives, 

And liberty controls, 
While true devotion sweetly gives 

A life-tide to men's souls, 
Shall this refrain infuse the air. 

All loyal hearts shall say : 
" For what he was and all he dared, 

Remember him today." 



THE FLAG AXD THE SCHOOLS. 
THE FLAG AND THE SCHOOLS. 



YES, give our boys the flag ! 
What hearts more true than they ? 
What hands more worthy of the trust? 
When foes would trail it in the dust 
On the dark battle-day. 

Yes, give our girls the flag ! 

Mayhap, in years to come, 
Their hands the colors may prepare, 
.When loud the tocsin rends the air. 

Calling our sons from home. 

Yes, give our sons the flag ! 

No text-book's classic fire, 
No page of science, deep, exact. 
No tale of fiction, tome of fact, 

Will so their hearts inspire. 

Yes, and our daughters, too ! 

To them, each sacred fold 
Shall prove a shield of all that's good, 
A pledge of noblest womanhood, 

More precious far than gold. 

Aye ! give our schools the flag ! 

It's azure — like the skies — 
It's crimson — like the bright life-blood 
That erst in pulsate torrents flowed — 

The soldier's sacrifice. 



SINCE GRACIE DIED. 

SINCE GRACIE DIED. 



THE years are passing- months repeat, 
The flight of each is yet more fleet — 
That Autumn morn we sadly greet — 
When Gracie died. 

The days of June indeed are rare, 
Nor aught of earth can be more fair ; 
But sweeter seems September, there, 
Where Gracie died. 

When flowers of Spring are softly laid 
Above each martyr-soldier's head, 
Sweet blooms shall deck the lowly bed, 
Where Gracie lies. 

Bright the Memorial flowers bloom, 
And fragrant is their rich perfume — 
To us all sweetness fills the room, 
Where Gracie died. 

But Autumn morns the earth shall grace ; 
When in the little prattler's face, 
Our darling's lines again we'll trace, 
Since Gracie died. 

And since the Shepherd chose to claim 
His lamb so soon, our lips can frame 
No words but " Blessed be his name," 
Since Gracie died. 



MEMORIAL FLOWERS. 
MEMORIAL FLOWERS. 



O DROOPING, blushing Rose! 
y Worthy art thou to deck the soldier's grave — 
Beauty and fragrance both, 
Thou lendest, nothing loth, 

To grace his tomb who died the flag to save. 

Sweet-scented Heliotrope : 

Thy modest floweret, too, blooms not in vain — 
Each tiny cup still ope, 
With the well-grounded hope, 

In some crushed loyal heart to ease the pain. 

O, Calla, rich and rare : 

Of all, it may be, thou dost lead the van — 
Come thou, from Afric's air, 
Thy hidden virtue spare, 

Crown their great hearts who loved their fellow man. 

Carnation, pure and white : 

Thy loving ministry is surely meet — 
Their record, fair as light, 
Unshrinking from the sight, 

May such caress as thine most proudly greet. 

And last, with graceful bells : 

Thou tiny, jewelled, Lily of the Vale — 
Uplift thy polished cells, 
Each ivory chalice tells. 

That Heaven's bright smile their graves shall never fail. 



A SUMMER AFTERNOON. I3 

A SUMMER AFTERNOON. 



WITHIN my den I sit, and thinking 
Of other days and scenes more fair, 
Forget the presses' measured clinking ; 
My walls dissolve in Summer air. 

Hot is the atmosphere, and hazy ; 

Adown the vista of the trees 
Moves the slow team ; the teamster lazy, 

Oppressed with heat, reclines at ease. ' 

Scarce move the leaves of elm or willow ; 

Summer's hot breath and stifling grasp, 
On them as on Waushakum's billow, 

Rest with a grim, unyielding clasp. 

The sandstone-hued and distant steeple 
A milestone rears on Pilgrim's road, 

And seems to say, " the common people 
Have gladly heard the word of God." 

Between, the terraced roofs are piling 
Their gray and blue and mottled mail. 

Where fancy paints (as fireside tiling 

In old Dutch homes) some Scripture tale. 



14 A RAINY EVENING. 

A RAINY EVENING. 



5 "j\ /TID clouds and fog the station drear, 
IV J. In misty shroud is sleeping; 

Each raindrop seems a rain-sprite's tear, 

As half in hope and half in fear, 
His vigil he is keeping. 

For brown October's charming days 

Have vanished as a story ; 
And golden leaves and Autumn haze 
Are like the poet's lightest lays, 

And transient as his glory. 

Afar — the buildings wierd and dark — 

All loom as castle towers ; 
The lantern's faint but cheerful spark 
The distant switch-post serves to mark, 
Where pass the weary hours. 

But I, within my cheerful room. 

May laugh at dreary weather ; 
The storm clouds brighter tints assume. 
And so we'll banish all the gloom, 

My lamp and I, together. 



PLAINT FOR MY UiMBRELLA. 1 5 

PLAINT FOR MY UMBRELLA. 



{Humorous.') 

" I ^IS true the sun is bright today, 
X. But that is not tomorrow ; 

I bask in Sol's pellucid ray — 
But soon may soak in sorrow. 

If but the days were always fine, 

I'd reck not my umbrella : 
But rainy days come soon or syne — 

" Confound that thievish ' feller ' ! " 

I scan each corner, nigh forlorn ; 

(Vain toil) my loss bewailing — 
My darling parachute is gone — 

All search is unavailing. 

If but my eye on that could rest 

Which cost some hard-earned money, 

Much joy would crown my earnest quest ; 
[This thing is far from funny]. 

Our life's but an umbrella — here — 

Its ribs the years : its glory 
Is just the bright-hued hemisphere, 

Which covers oft, love's story. 

E'en though I feel the critic's smile. 
Me from my theme enjoining : 

If it some tedious hour beguile — 
'Twas not a vain purloining. 



1 6 FIRESIDE MUSINGS. 

FIRESIDE MUSINGS. 



THE fireside ! at my fancy's list, 
(The outer world may come and go) 
My thoughts are wrapped in pleasing mist ; 
And I content to have them so. 

Silence and peace embrace me round ; 

The merry laugh and childish word, 
Often at eve a welcome sound, 

Now hushed in sleep — no longer heard. 

The camp fire gives once more its glow ; 

The lonely vigil comes again, 
When, listening to discern a foe. 

The silence, so intense, is pain. 

The wind now stirs the forest leaves: — 
The murmur (like a rising tide 

That the sad ocean's bosom heaves). 
But seems the approaching foe to hide. 

The weary watch-hours fled at last, 

We dream of home, 'till morning's dawn 

Shall bring the soldier's plain repast: — 
The shadows of the night are gone. 

My thoughts o'erleap a score of years ; 

They seem but as a fleeting hour : — 
Burdened with laughter or with tears, 

'Tis one tonight — by memory's power. 



BEFORE NEWMARKET. \J 

The scroll reveals its pictured store — 

And faces, dead to mortal sight, 
The inner vision greet once more — 

A sad, a sweet, a strange delight. 



BEFORE NEWMARKET. 



THE weary week nigh passed — its closing day — 
A day of humid air and murky clouds, 
A day of countermarch and weary steps, 
A hurried snatching of refreshment light; 
And in its waning hours all sounds are stilled. 
Hushed, as the dying cadence of a dream. 
Beyond, the foe, in heavy columns massed. 
Rests till the morn. 

Now to the startled ear 
(As when a lurid fiash from threatening clouds 
Preludes the storm that heavy, darkening hangs) 
Comes the sharp rattle of the musketry. 
And springing to our feet, with eager look. 
We wait the word — 

But quiet soon returns. 
The day has dawned at last, a Sabbath morn. 
But not as 'mid our fair New England scenes. 
Where shines the sun, where chimes the sweet-toned bell, 



Where peace enveils the home, and nothhig mars 
Save the rude echoes from these Southern fields ; 
Or, even now, perchance, "the vacant chair." 
On those dark, fateful hours, when Nature's frown 
Of clouds, and frequent tears of chilling rain ■ 
Bespoke her strong abhorrence of the scene, 
The veil may fall. 



Battle of Newmarket, W. Va., Sunday, May 15, 1864. 



AT REST. 

A NOBLE heart is stilled : 
The care, far-reaching, for the poor of earth, 
The needy and forlorn, is felt no more. 
The busy hand that toiled, and brain that planned 
And guided many a willing helper true 
In earnest work and godlike charity, 
Alike are motionless. 

The freedman, warmed 
And clothed in garments from her tireless hands, 
Besought for her Heaven's benediction sweet. 
The soldier, laid aside from war's fierce storm. 
And by his wounds in hospital becalmed. 
Or by the burning fever stricken down. 

Called her his friend. 



MEMORIAL ODE. I 9 

But she is resting now : 
From labor to repose, from service true 
To rich reward, from pain to perfect peace, 
From cross (for think not that she bore no cross) 
To starry crown the faithful one has gone. 

Methinks those loving, toil-worn, weeping ones 
A.round her dying couch could almost catch 
The accents of her greeting, and partake 
Her rapture, as the Master's gracious words, 
"Well done, thou good and faithful servant," fell 
Upon her ransomed spirit's sense. 

For He, 
The loving Lord, who says, " I quickly come. 
And with me my reward," received her there. 
Upon us, who remain to toil awhile. 
We pray, O Lord, Thou graciously wilt let 
Her mantle fall. Bestow Thy grace, that we 
May serve Thee well, and see Thy face with joy. 



MEMORIAL ODE. 



THEIRS was no common lot, 
Whom we today revere ; 
No sordid life, no useless work, 
Do we remember here. 



AT SUNRISE, JUNE 1 7, 1875. 

Their glorious fame we keep, — 
What precious trust is ours ! 

"They softly lie and sweetly sleep," 
Their graves we deck with flowers. 

In battle's sharpest strife. 

In heavy, wearing toil, 
'Mid bursting shell and whistling ball, 

Or delving in the soil 

Of fair Virginia's hills, — 

Whether the trench or field ; 

No thought but duty nerved their arm, 
Weapon or spade to wield. 

Their narrow, silent beds, 

Where, sunk in peaceful sleep. 

These martyred heroes rest from toil, 
As sacred charge we keep. 



AT SUNRISE, JUNE 17, 1875. 



YE joyous bells, in merry strain, 
Your music yield, again, again, 
Our patriot thoughts to fire ; 
That, raised from busy life's routine. 
Some higher aims may enter in, — 

Our sluggish souls inspire. 



I 



"THE GERMAN." 

A century has passed, — and now 

The change is wondrous — from the brow 

Of yon historic hill, 
Whence burst the murderous battle flames, 
Where glory rested on the names 

That live in history still, 

Shines forth in words of living light 
The glories of old Bunker's fight ; 

The memories of that day 
When Prescott led the deadly strife, 
When Warren's gift, a noble life, 

On Freedom's altar lay. 

Ye joyous bells, with loudest peal 
Our glorious heritage reveal, 

Its cost, its priceless worth ; 
Lead us to praise, with loud acclaim. 
Our country's God, whose reverend name 

Transcends the names of earth. 



"THE GERMAN.' 



HANS SPIEGLER was a Teuton bold, 
Of Faderland extraction ; 
Phlegmatic, steady, calm and cold — 
An iceberg, he, in action. 



"the GERMAN." 

His livelihood he fairly earned 

By humble, constant labors ; 
To know the truth, if you're concerned, 

He sawed wood for his neighbors. 

'Twas seldom that he ventured in * 
The dusk of night to go forth, — 

None said he sought the haunts of sin, 
With fast young men, &c. 

But late one eve, he chanced to pass 
Where music, dancing, drinking, — 

Where graceful forms in mirrored glass. 
Set sober Hans to thinking. 

His thoughts soon found a vent in speech 
" Podshausend ! Was ist das ? so — " 

His voice the nether regions reached. 
Like notes of deepest basso, 

A servant from the basement cried, 
" 77ie German, go to thunder," — 

But '^Nixfurstay" he still replied, 
With face of puzzled wonder. 

And, if you will believe the tale, 

Today Hans Spiegler gazes. 
Unable still to break the spell 

Cast by the "German's" mazes. 



THE THING OF EVEN-TOES. 23 

THE THING OF EVEN-TOES.* 



T' 



^HERE was a thing of Even-toes ; 

His name was Reynard — sharp his nose — 
His eyes were keen — his hunger fierce — 
His teeth the toughest fowl could pierce : 
And for this cause, 
By Nature's laws, 
The entire feathered race in his immediate vicinity took 
special pains to avoid his paws. 

The custom was, with Even-toes, 
By craft to conquer — not by blows — 
A sly old fox was our hero red ; 
On the choicest fowls he lived, 'twas said : 
And the rascal laughed, 
As their blood he quaffed, — 
While all the old chanticleers and dame partlets, whether 
shanghais or bantams, were nearly or quite driven "daft." 

This fellow's laugh — 'twas a thing to see — 
For a fox can laugh ^ you will all agree — 
He would first put on a sardonic grin, 
Like an evil sprite, as he mocks at sin ; 
Then he wagged his jaw. 
And the watchers saw 
A volley of vulpine cachinnation thence escaping — He I 
He ! He ! Ha ! Ha ! Ha 1 Haw ! Haw ! Haw ! 



* Title suggested by Beranger's " King of Yvetot," 



24 THE THING OF EVEN-TOES. 

"I've a handsome brush," said Even-toes ; 
'' On my ruby fur the sunlight glows, 
When I venture out in the daylight fair — 
But at night-time boldly I quit my lair, 
For the silver moon^ 
And the night-hawk's croon, 
Just stir my blood; and entirely regardless of the price of 
poultry, I walk out with my cousin raccoon." 

But the robber's career oft ends in grief ; 
And one Autumn day, to the great relief 
Of the feathered and fatted family fowls ; 
And the vengeful joy of his neighbor owls, 
Whom he oft had robbed. 
As they nightly sobbed ; 
(At least. Gray implies that they did,* though it's of no 
particular consequence in this connection anyway), but as 
Ave were about to S2i^, old Reynard by hunters was mobbed. 



The moping owl doth to the moon complain. — [Gray's " Elegy." 



PART 



REMINISCENCES 



CHAPTER I. 



THE FAREWELL. 

IT is in the afternoon of a summer day, with but little 
breeze more than enough to sway the folds of a new 
and handsome national flag, which is in full view of the 
multitude who encompass it. We have taken the reader, 
in thought, to the old Agricultural grounds in Worcester, 
on the 15th of August, 1862. 

A few words concerning this great gathering ; the close 
attention of all being drawn to the speaker's stand in its 
centre. Citizens of all classes are here, gazing and listen- 
ing, representing the population of the city and suburbs. 
Its inner circles are clothed in the uniform of their 
country's service, and stand in military order. To them, 
as a regiment, through their commander, who is conspicu- 
ous on the stand by his uncovered head and noble bearing, 
the flag is being presented : a touching farewell act of the 
ladies of Worcester. 

It is delivered with fitting words, and now not only the 
soldier, but the orator speaks. Never, while memory lasts, 
will the picture be erased from the mind of one, at least ; 
the central figure, the devoted Wells : so soon, compara- 
tively, to be the lamented. 



28 ■ REMINISCENCES. 

The throng breaks, and the regiment gradually prepares 
to leave the city for fields of duty, not to shrink from fields 
of danger. Hark ! as they slowly recede from sight, and 
the clangor of martial music is hushed, one can almost dis- 
tinguish, stealing through yonder casement where a lonely 
heart is thinking of the absent ones, the plaintive words : 

" Thinking no less of them, 

But loving our country the more ; 
We've sent them forth to fight for the flag, 
That our fathers before them bore. 

Sitting around the fireside, 

Though it be summer time ; 
We'll sit and talk of brothers abroad. 

Forgetting the midnight chime. 

Brave boys are they, 

Gone at their country's call ; 
And yet, and yet, we cannot forget 

That many brave boys must fall." 



CHAPTER II. 



FUN IN CAMP. 

WEARY and monotonous indeed, would be many of 
the days spent in camp by the soldier, did not 
something crop out of an amusing nature, either in the 
proper members of the camp or in some of its motley group 
of followers. 



REMINISCENCES. 29 

In the Thirty-Fourth Regiment, one such safety-valve 
was found in a stout, good-natured darkey, who seemed to 
be the " right hand man " of our regimental sutler. 

On one occasion, the "even tenor of his way" was 
rudely broken in upon, to the great amusement of the large 
number who happened to be in view of that part of the 
camp at the time. It seems that a private soldier of mis- 
chievous propensities had been, for some time, teasing our 
colored friend by thrusting a burning twig from the camp 
fire into his face ; yet, during the ordeal, he had kept his 
patience, and only tried to get rid of his tormentor by en- 
treaties. Suddenly he turns upon him, forbearance having 
ceased to be a virtue in the case, and the two fall heavily, 
to the ground ; Oscar having decidedly the advantage of 
his enemy, which he as decidedly keeps. The roar of 
laughter which followed this unexpected discomfiture was 
probably more pleasing to the ears of Oscar than to those 
of his antagonist. 

Another little incident in which this sable philosopher 
was concerned related to the legitimate business of the 
sutler's tent, and the story was often rehearsed in company 
E, and to the amusement of many, by Otis Hunter,* who 
afterwards, while in the performance of duty as j^icket 
guard at the Shenandoah, near Harper's Ferry, fell through 
an opening in the bridge in an unguarded moment, as was 
conjectured, and perished by drowning. It would seem 
that at a time when an unusually large company was 
gathered in front of the sutler's tent, one of the "boys,^' 

* Hunter, Otis M., of Spencer, Mass., drowned April 10, 1864. 



30 REMINISCENCES. 

whose appetite was more capacious than his purse, and 
stronger than his sense of honesty, had taken advantage 
of the crowd to secure a free lunch. Oscar's version of 
the affair, as related by Hunter, was something like this : 
" Well, yer see de feller he comes up 'mongst de crowd, an' 
says he, I wants a fried pie. So I takes de fried pie an' 
hands it to him, an' looks for de money ; but somehow de 
feller gets shook up in de crowd, an' I hav'nt seen him, 
nor de money, nor de. fried pie smce.^' This was given with 
capital powers of imitation, and never failed to " bring 
down the house." 

There is something which irresistibly appeals, in many 
phases of the African character, to our American sense of 
humor. At the same time, we discover running through it 
a vein of sentiment which, blending with the other, digni- 
fies the effect. 

" 'Way down upon de Swanee Riber, 
Far, far away ; 
Dere's where my heart am turning eber 
Dere's where de old folks stay. 

When I was in de fields a hoeing, 

Near set ob sun ; 
So glad to hear de horn a blowing, 

Telling dat de work was done. 

O, den de darkies frolic sweetly, 

Banjo in tune ; 
Dinah and Phillis dressed so neatly, 

Dance by de big round moon." 



REMINISCENCES. 3 1 



CHAPTER III. 



HARPER'S FERRY. 

FOR some weeks, the Thirty-Fourth had remained in 
Washington, D. C, furnishing daily heavy details of 
neatly equipped men for guard duty ; principally to be em- 
ployed in guarding the Carroll and Old Capitol prisons. 
During this time, the general soldierly deportment of the 
rank and file, together with the fine appearance of the 
regiment on dress parade, attracted much attention arid 
called forth many complimentary expressions from the 
residents of Washington. 

But " marching orders " do not stop to take counsel of 
their subjects, and on a well remembered evening in July, 
1863, they turned our quiet barracks into a scene of bustle 
and confusion. A ride of a few hours, over the Baltimore 
and Ohio Railroad, brought us into the immediate vicinity 
of Harper's Ferry. 

The activity which prevailed throughout our force on the 
morning of July 14th, made it evident to all that a move- 
ment across the Potomac was intended. All needful pre- 
parations having been made, a lively cannonade was 
opened from the heights above, under cover of which our 
force embarked in pontoon boats that were near at hand, 
and crossing, passed through the deserted streets up to the 
higher ground beyond ; dislodging a small body, of the 
enemy which had been holding possession. As the after- 
noon advanced, a considerable force of cavalry passed 



32 REMINISCENCES. 

through the place, file following file, in a seemingly end- 
less succession, till the eye was wearied with attempting to 
take in the living current. Our occupation of Harper's 
Ferry, begun under these circumstances, was destined to 
continue for many months, with the exception of an occa- 
sional visit to Martinsburg towards the close of winter. 

Perhaps the most notable incident of our service during 
these months was a march to Harrisonburg, about one hun- 
dred miles into Virginian territory, over that noble pro- 
duction of the road-maker's art, the " Shenandoah Valley 
turnpike." This splendid avenue of travel deserves more 
than a passing notice. Its exceedingly hard and smooth 
surface, composed of finely broken stone, the graded and 
uniform elevation from either side to the centre, and the 
long stretch of view in a perfectly straight line, such as 
may sometimes be obtained on our best surveyed railroad 
lines ; all these combined to call out the admiring com- 
ments of those who travelled upon it. 

This demonstration, which was successfully and safely 
accomplished, was understood to be intended as a diver- 
sion in favor of the raid at that time being executed by 
Gen. Averill, with his much larger force. 

The night scene at Harrisonburg, on the occasion of 
commencing our retreat from the hazardous position in 
which this comparatively small force was placed, having 
the advantage of novelty in our experience, was one long 
to be remembered. As soon as the darkness of night 
made it practicable, preparations for a quiet departure 
were commenced — large fires being lighted and well sup- 



REMIXISCEXCES. 33 

plied with fuel, as though our men were to pass the night 
comfortably and without any demonstration. At the word 
of command, silently and swiftly the entire force withdrew' 
from camp and moved in the direction of Harper's Ferry. 
Steadily we pressed on during the entire night, only paus- 
ing for a short halt and rest upon the snow-covered ground, 
in the later hours of the night, and when morning dawned 
were well on our way towards the Potomac. Although we 
were closely followed by a brigade of the enemy, in our 
rapid and forced march homewards, yet, by the interven- 
tion of favorable events, the friendly shadow of the Mary-- 
land heights was reached with no loss from our hazardous 
attempt at "bearding the lion in his den," as our adven- 
ture was described by the Richmond Examiner. 

Our long stay in this town gave many opportunities for 
examining its objects of interest, including the engine 
house, worthy of note as the fortress occupied by John 
Brown while he held possession, during the brief campaign 
destined to end so disastrously for those engaged in it. 
The ruins of the armory and other buildings made it very 
evident that an immense amount of property had been 
destroyed in the two years in which the spirit of war had 
held carnival there. 

The climate, through the winter months we spent in this 
place, seemed to suggest some New England locality rather 
than a part of the "sunny south." Snow storms, and bleak, 
cold winds, find as congenial a home around those rocky 
heights as Massachusetts could offer them ; at least, such 
was the impression made upon the mind of the writer. 



34 REMINISCEN'CES. 

The sublimity and grandeur of Nature's works here well 
repay any effort required to reach an eligible point of view ; 
but it requires no effort to enable the mind nurtured " be- 
neath New England's sky " to dwell again, in thought, 
among its native hills. 

"Once more, O Mountains of the North, unveil 

Your brows, and lay your cloudy mantles by ! 
And once more, ere the eyes that seek ye fail, , 

Uplift against the blue walls of the sky 
Your mighty shapes, and let the sunshine weave 

Its golden net-work in your belting woods, 

Smile down in rainbows from your falling floods 
And on your kingly brows at morn and eve 
Set crowns of fire ! So shall my soul receive 

Haply the secret of your calm and strength, 
Your unforgotten beauty interfuse 
My common life, your glorious shapes and hues 
And sun-dropped splendors at my bidding come, 

Loom vast through dreams, and stretch in billowy length 
From the sea-level of my lowland home ! " 

— Whittier. 



CHAPTER iV. 



THE SKIRMISH. 

THE morning of Sunday, October 13, 1863, was a 
disastrous one for the Ninth Maryland regiment, 
who were only a few miles distant from our encampment at 
Harper's Ferry. As the event proved, the enemy, in con- 
siderable force, under Gen. Imboden, had made an early 



REMINISCENCES. 35 

and vigorous attack on that regiment at Charlestown, and 
captured them bodily, in number about three hundred. 
Every available man of the Thirty-Fourth was promptly 
called out, and preceded by a battery which was stationed 
near by, the regiment started in hot pursuit. Often had 
the wish been expressed that we might see some actual 
fighting, and at last the wish was to be gratified. 

A running fight commenced soon after reaching Charles- 
town ; the battery, which was still in advance, having en- 
gaged the enemy just beyond that place. The regiment 
press hurriedly on, and a few miles of rapid marching 
bring them into close proximity to the foe, as the shells 
falling within a short distance from their ranks fully prove. 
Each company has been assigned the best position allowed 
by the character of the ground, which is somewhat uneven 
and obstructed by fences. A lively discharge of musketry 
is kept up from both sides for a time, but finally ceases. 
At about this period in the fight, a small body of mounted 
infantry from the enemy's force charge toward us till but a 
short space intervenes, and then wheeling easily, soon dis- 
appear in the distance. We afterwards learn that the 
Springfield muskets of one of our wing companies told 
with effect on their ranks. The firing has now ceased, and 
the regiment is ordered to cross the open ground which 
separates our position from that of the enemy. This is 
safely accomplished, and it is found that they have again 
retreated. 

Our commanding officer now considers that the pursuit 
has been pushed far enough, and the order is given to re- 



36 REMIXISCEN'CES. 

turn to Harper's Ferry. Marching and resting alternately, 
the regiment reach their quarters at a late hour, feeling 
well satisfied with this first experience of actual fighting. 
Two of the color corporals, Clark* of company K and 
Gaget of company E, have laid down their lives ; but they 
died gloriously, and what matters the form in which death 
comes, if it finds one in the path of duty ! 

" Come to the bridal chamber, Death ; 

Come to the mother, when she feels 
For the first time her first-born's breath ; 

Come when the blessed seals 
Which close the pestjlence are broke, 
And crowded cities wail its stroke ; 
Come in Consumption's ghastly form, 
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; 
Come when the heart beats high and warm, 

With banquet song, and dance and wine 
And thou art terrible ; the tear. 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And all we know, or dream, or fear 

Of agony are thine. 
But to the warrior, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free, 
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word. 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be." 

— Hai.leck. 



* Clark, Noah A., of Pittsfield, Mass. 
t Gage, M. Gardner, of Spencer, Mass. 



REMINISCENCES. 37 

CHAPTER V. 



BATTLE OF NEWMARKET. 

AFTER a march of some hours, our regiment had 
arrived in the vicinity of Newmarket, Va. ; not, 
however, without an occasional shot being exchanged be- 
tween the light artillery, which preceded us, and that of 
the enemy. As we marched to a position somewhat shel- 
tered by a low ridge^ this firing was kept up with vigor. 
The peculiar tone and expression assumed by our com- 
mander, Colonel Wells, as he directed our movements, will 
be remembered by many. " Don't you see how they are 
firing at me?" was his demand, evidently more for its 
effect on his men than from any special concern as to his 
own safety. 

So passed the afternoon of Saturday, May 14, 1864, and 
the night, a rainy and uncomfortable one, settled down 
upon us ; but war is no respecter of the stillness of night, 
and the fact of a foe being close at hand is a great pro- 
moter of uneasiness. Suddenly a shot is heard, then a 
volley, and we are roused up without ceremony ; but the 
alarm proves nothing serious, being caused by a small re- 
connoitering party from the enemy. We lie down again, 
all save the watchful sentinels, and sheltering ourselves 
from the rain so far as possible, get what sleep may be had 
under the circumstances, A part of the morning is occu- 
pied in putting our arms and ourselves in good fighting 
condition, though this is a difficult matter in some cases; 
the rain having reached our muskets to some extent, in 
spite of the utmost vigilance. 



38 REMINISCENCES. 

The quiet is broken by an order to a different position, 
which order is repeated occasionally during the forenoon, 
keeping us in motion almost constantly from one point to 
another. At last, a satisfactory position having been 
reached, we lie down on our arms for a short time, but 
soon are ordered to rise and then to load and fire as 
rapidly as possible. In the meantime a battery has been 
stationed on our right, and its guns begin to play on the 
enemy. After firing several volleys a charge is ordered, 
and as we advance the opposing force comes plainly into 
view. The yells and cheers accompanying this movement 
make it almost impossible to hear any order from our 
superior officers, but we finally comprehend that a " right- 
about " is ordered. This is executed, and we retrace our 
steps for a short distance, still keeping on a line with the 
colors, while the continuous cheering of the enemy shows 
that they fully appreciate their advantage. We now begin 
to f§el seriously the effect of the heavy fire, both musketry 
and artillery, which fills the air with deadly missiles. A 
prominent field officer is disabled by a severe wound, and 
as the enemy press close upon us necessarily falls into their 
hands ; while others, who are less injured, are supported 
from the field to receive surgical aid. 

The regiment, having reached a good position, is halted, 
faced about, and aids in checking the enemy's advance, 
much to the satisfaction of the wounded, who are making 
their way to Mt. Jackson, some four miles distant. Night 
falls, and the sounds of battle are hushed ; but this Sab- 
bath day, so disturbed by mortal strife, has proved the 



REMINISCENCES. 39 

last for many who have cherished hopes of " bright days 
yet to be." 

"And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, 

Dewy with Nature's tear drops, as they pass ; 
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, 

Over the unreturning brave : alas ! 

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass ; 
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 

In its next verdure, when this fiery mass 
Of living valor, rolling on the foe, 

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low." 

— Byron. 



CHAPTER VI. 



INCIDENTS. 

IT will be remembered by some that, at an early period 
of our regimental history, a fever for enlistment into 
the regular army prevailed to a certain extent. The causes 
which produced this state of things are unknown to the 
writer, but it seems probable that highly colored state- 
ments, made by interested parties, as to the relative ad- 
vantages of one branch of the service over another had 
been employed. 

Col. Wells, as the event proved, felt no sympathy with 
this movement, and had no idea of quietly looking on 
while his regiment was depleted in numbers to fill the 
voracious maw of Uncle Sam. Accordingly, taking his 



40 REMINISCENCES. 

opportunity when the regiment was out with full ranks, he 
expressed his views on " the situation " with his usual 
fi)rce and eloquence, and in a manner that held the atten- 
tion of all to the close. That part of his argument which 
covered the points of promotion and travel, as nearly as 
can be recalled, was something like this. " You have been 
promised opportunities for promotion and travel : as for 
travel, you would have plenty of that, and would have to 
\.x?i\^\ pretty close to the line. With regard to promotion in 
the regular army there is a regular system of promotion, in 
which non-commissioned officers only stand a chance of 
sharing, and they after years of waiting." The address, 
whether from its sarcasm or its sense, was effectual in 
curing the uneasiness that had prevailed. 

At one time, the young and popular captain of Company 
E saw fit to celebrate his birthday by furnishing his men 
with an unusual treat. A liberal supply of " lager " was 
obtained from a neighboring fort and placed conveniently 
in one of the company tents, with the understanding that 
all were welcome to partake. As the evening advanced a 
spirit of jollity naturally prevailed, stimulated a little, it 
may be, by the influence of the Teutonic beverage, and 
some unusual and unmilitary noises perhaps were heard, 
till the stentorian voice of orderly sergeant (since captain) 
Belser* rang out even more loudly than usual, summoning 
the company to fall in for evening roll-call, after which 
quiet was restored, and night settled down peacefully as 
usual over the camp. 

* Belser, William F., of Worcester, Mass. 



REMINISCENCES. 4I 

The company in which occurred the last incident num- 
bered among its original members two who were truly of 
a kindred spirit and alike in name, though of different 
nationality — Joseph Smith, whose pranks and mimicry so 
often relieved the tiresomeness of the long march, and 
Owen Smith, the sturdy son of Erin, equally ready for a 
figlit or a frolic. Once, for some infraction of military 
discipline, in which both were concerned, they were com- 
pelled to wear "the wooden shirt" (the name commonly 
applied to a barrel with an opening cut in the end, through 
which the culprit's head was passed, the weight of the 
barrel resting on his shoulders). Thus equipped, they 
were obliged to march back and forth before the captain's 
quarters ; yet they were far from being disheartened, but 
with great merriment performed this unusual sentry duty, 
assisting each other, in case of any accident, with an 
almost brotherly regard. 

The first mentioned of this pair of intimate friends 
is reported as having died at Florence, S. C, Nov. i, 
1864. 

We will close this somewhat disconnected chapter by 
introducing from the "Atlantic Monthly" for July, 1862, 
an excellent specimen of soldier-poetry, of which little is 
said, except that it was " taken from a student song book, 
and was probably written in 18 14." Not one of the six 
verses it contains can be spared in reproducing this 
gem, so replete with a loyal and soldierly spirit. It is 
unique and perfect in its peculiar line of thought and 
sentiment : — 



42 REMINISCENCES. 

THE CANTEEN. 
"Just help me, Lottie, as I spring ; 

My arm is feeble, see, — 
I still must have it in a sling ; 

Be softly now with me ! 
But do not let the canteen slip, — 

Here, take it first, I pray, — 
For when that's broken from my lip, 

All joys will flow away. 

'And why for that so anxious .'' — pshaw ! 

It is not worth a pin : 
The common glass, the bit of straw, 

And not a drop within ! ' 
No matter, Lottie, take it out, — 

'T is past your reckoning : 
Yes, look it round and round about, — 

There drank from it — my King ! 

By Leipsic near, if you must know, — 

'T was just no children's play, — 
A ball hit me a grievous blow. 

And in the crowd I lay ; 
Nigh death, they bore me from the scene. 

My garments off they fling, 
Yet held I fast by my canteen, — 

There drank from it — my King ! 

For once our ranks in passing through 

He paused,— we saw his face ; 
Around us keen the volleys flew. 

He calmly kept his place. 
He thirsted, — I could see it plain. 

And courage took to bring 
My old canteen for him to drain, — 

He drank from it — my King ! 



REMINISCENCES. 43 

He touched me on the shoulder here, 

And said, ' I thank thee, friend, — 
Th}' liquor gives me timely cheer, — 

Thou didst right well intend.' 
O'erjoj-ed at this, I cried aloud, 

' O, comrades, who can bring, 
Canteen like this to make him proud ? — 

There drank from it — my King ! ' 

That old canteen shall no one have, 

The best of treasures mine ; 
Put it at last upon my grave. 

And under it this line : 
' He fought at Leipsic, whom this green 

Is softly covering ; 
Best household good was his canteen, — 

There drank from it — his King ! ' " 



CHAPTER VII. 



IN MEMORIAM, CO. E. 

A FEW closing words as a tribute to the honored dead. 
While referring especially to a few names in this 
connection, no peculiar honor is claimed for them above 
the large number of their comrades in other companies 
whose record is equally honorable ; but of those we know 
best we can, doubtless, best speak. 

Brave Christopher Pennell* — with a noble ambition 
leaving his many friends to serve in another field, and 
falling at last before Petersburg. 

•Pennell, Christoplier, of West Stockbridge, Mass., killed at Petersburff, Va. , as 
Lieut. U. S. C. T. 



44 remim:-cen'Ces. 

Captain William B. Bacon* — an able and intrepid 
soldier, than whom few had brighter prospects of advance- 
ment and honor, stricken down at Newm.arket, while in- 
spiring his men with his own fearlessness of spirit. 

Sergeant Harry B. Kingt — of a gentle and obliging 
spirit, and beloved by all his comrades; dying on the field 
of battle, and leaving only the knowledge of his devotion 
to duty to cheer his youthful and bereaved companion. 

■ The brothers, Dvvight and Henry ChickeringI — noble 
and promising youths, making the woods ring with the 
sound of their axes, and their whole-souled laughter, as we 
prepared to encamp after the day's weary march. 

But one more will be particularly mentioned here, viz., 
Newton H. Clark, § in reference to whom Brigade Surgeon 
ClarkU used this language, in a letter informing his friends 
of his death : " He was a brave, conscientious and faithful 
soldier." And what shall I say of thee, my brother, my 
faithful friend ? Whether in the ordinary duties of the 
camp, in hours of recreation and of loving communion with 
friends in the far-distant home^ through the medium of the 
pen, or amid the more fatiguing and exacting experiences 
of the march, none ever found a truer or more constant 
companion. Though the snows of many winters ha\e, in 

*Bacoii, William B., of Worcester, Mass., killed May 15, 1S64. 

tKing, Harry B., of Barre, Mass., killed June iS, 1864. 

tChickering, Dwight, of Spencer, Mass., killed in battle July iS, 1S64. 

tChickering, Henry G., of Spencer, Mass., lost from transport at Wilmington, N. 
C, February, 1S65. 

§Clark, Newton H., enlisted from Swampscott, Mass., killed in battle September 
19, 1S64. 

HClark, Rouse R.. of Northbridge, Mass., member of General Court of 1S8S. 
Deceased. 



REMINISCENCES. 45 

their season, robed thy grave with a stainless winding- 
sheet, yet is thy memory cherished fondly as at first : still 
shall the flowers of each succeeding summer strew that 
grave and the lofty pines of our native state shall furnish 
thy requiem. 

" How sleep the brave, who sink to rest 
By all their country's wishes blest ? 
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, 
Returns to deck their hallowed mould, 
She there shall dress a sweeter sod 
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 

By fairv hands their knell is rung ; 
By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; 
Here Honor comes, a pilgrim gray 
To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; 
And Freedom shall awhile repair 
To dwell, a weeping hermit, there. ' 

— Collins. 



PART I 



SKETCHES 



A HALF-HOUR WITH TAYLOR. 



THOSE whose tastes and preferences in reading agree 
with those of the writer of this little tribute will have 
found a peculiar fascination in the repeated perusal of 
a poem by Benjamin F. Taylor ; one of those names, evi- 
dently, which the human heart and mind, appreciating the 
pure gold of song, will not " willingly let die." It was 
given in a late number of the "Watchman and Reflector," 
accredited to " Scribner's Magazine " for April. Its title, 
" The Psalm Book in the Garret," is suggestive of the 
general drift of the poem. Where all is excellent, there may 
be difficulty in pointing out special beauties. How rich in 
poetic fancy is this stanza : 

"Ah, richer far than noontide blaze 
The soft gray silence of the air, 
As if long years of ended days 
Had garnered all their twilights there." 

After the above, which seems to convey the impression 
made upon the poet's mind by the twilight dimness of the 
secluded room, and other lines in a similar vein, comes the 
discovery of a venerable volume ; which proves to be the 
talisman to unlock rich treasures indeed : 



so 



SKETCHES. 



" Where rafters set their cobwebb'd feet 

Upon the rugged oaken ledge, 
I found a flock of singers sweet, 

Like snow-bound sparrows in a hedge. 

In silk of spider's spinning hid, 

A long and narrow psalm-book lay " — 

And how vividly does the following bring to view a page 
of the old psalm-book : 

"Ah, dotted tribe with ebon heads 
That climb the slender fence along ! 

As black as ink, as thick as weeds, 
Ye little Africans of song ! " 

Here is a touch of tender sentiment : 

" Who wrote upon this page, ' Forget 
Me Not .'' ' These cruel leaves of old 

Have crushed to death a violet — 
See here its spectre's pallid gold. 

A pencilled whisper during prayer 

Is that poor dim and girlish word : " — 

As the poet pursues his examination of its pages, the old 
garret seems to be transformed, to his imagination, as by a 
magician's wand, into the "old village church," and the' 
dim twilight of the cramped and darkened apartment is 
changed to the daylight glow of an " olden tyme " sabbath : 

" The village church is builded here ; 
The twilight turns to afternoon." 



SKETCHES. 51 

Well might the worthies of old afford to worship on un- 
carpeted floors, so that the reader of the present time may 
enjoy dwelling once and again upon the beautiful imagery 
contained in this other couplet ; as if the mechanical oper- 
ation of the carpet-loom were but a transcript or photograph 
of nature's wondrous working, by which the fairest flowers 
are produced : 

" Thy naked aisle no roses grace 
That blossomed at the shuttle's play ; " 

The following lines, descriptive of the old-fashioned 
fugue are especially sweet and graceful, and the quaint 
imagery introduced in the last four almost unsurpassed : 

" The parts strike in with measured grace, 
And something sweet is everywhere ! 

As if some warbling brood should build 

Of bits of tunes a singing nest, 
Each bringing that with which it thrilled 

And weaving it with all the rest ! " 

Desiring to close fittingly, this partial and imperfect 
view of some of the beauties existing in the poem under 
consideration, we present one more extract; by no means 
exhausting the catalogue of gems contained therein : 

"The congregation rise and stand; 

'Old Hundred's' rolling thunder comes 
In heavy surges, slow and grand, 

As beats the surf its solemn drums." 



52 SKETCHES. 

THE VIRGINIA PREACHER. 



THE following brief sketch is an attempt to reproduce 
from memory, as far as is practicable, the leading 
points of an account given by a distinguished American,* 
many years since, concerning a discourse heard by him in 
the backwoods of Virginia. 

The narrator of the anecdote referred to was travelling 
through a thinly settled portion of the State, and came 
upon a group engaged in listening to one, apparently a 
minister of the gospel, f who was addressing them on what 
was, evidently, a weighty and solemn theme. The subject, 
powerfully handled by the preacher, proved to be the pas- 
sion, or suffering and death of our Saviour. 

As the discourse drew near its close, the preacher en- 
tered thoroughly into the spirit of his theme, having the 
entire congregation completely in sympathy with himself 
and his subject — the tears flowed freely from many eyes, 
and sobs burst forth from many hearts, as he portrayed 
that most deeply affecting scene ; one which angels bent 
down to view with immortal interest, and which concerns 
so closely every member of our race — the agony and death, 
upon the cross, of our Lord. 

At this point the narrator, who evidently understood 
human nature and the art of sacred oratory, seems to have 
been apprehensive that the preacher would be unable, 
safely and without shock, to descend from his lofty height, 

* William Wirt, American lawyer and author. — [1772-1S34.] 
t He was of exceedingly venerable aspect, and totally blind. 



SKETCHES. S3 

and relieve the deeply wrought feelings of his hearers. 
But not so — for the almost painful silence which for a few 
moments succeeded his thrilling description and appeal 
was followed by the sublime sentence of Rosseau : " So- 
crates died like ?i p/iilosopher, but Jesus Christ like a God." 



THE CHRISTIAN SOLDIER. 
[From The Coniril'iitor.'] 



W''ITH the purpose of honoring the memory of one 
who, as a most conscientious, devout and active 
Christian, was worthy of honor, this sketch has been pre- 
pared. 

Newton Howard Clark was born at Hallowell, Me., in 
1835, and reared under the influences of a Christian home. 
His father died when Newton was but about ten years of 
age, and he became early accustomed to a life of labor. At 
fourteen he was baptized, and united with the Baptist 
Church at Hallowell, with which he maintained a faithful 
membership. About October, 1858, he settled in Somer- 
set, Mass. Here he remained for about three and one- 
half years, throwing himself st once into all Christian 
activities in connection with the Baptist Church in the 
town. 

In July, 1862, after mature deliberation, he responded 
to his country's call for volunteers. He enlisted in the 



54 SKETCHES. 

34th Mass. Infantry, then being organized at Worcester, 
and was assigned to Company E, of that regiment, sharing 
its varied experiences, which were not of a specially v/ar- 
like nature for the first fourteen months. 

It is during this part of his military service that his life 
again touches that of the pastor of his youth, very briefly 
and for the last time. Rev. Samuel W. Field, D. D., then 
chaplain of the Twelfth Rhode Island Volunteer Infantry, 
was located for a few days in the vicinity of the Thirty- 
fourth Massachusetts, and liberty was secured for a brief 
visit. 

The " baptism of blood " came to the Thirty-fourth 
Regiment in October, 1863, in the skirmish at Ripon, W. 
Va., and the subject of our little memoir was subsequently 
engaged in the battles of Newmarket, Piedmont, Lynch- 
burg, Snicker's Gap, Martinsburg and Halltown ; and in 
the action at Berryville, W. Va., in September, 1864, he 
received a fatal bullet wound. His record, during all this 
varied service, was one of unwavering Christian fidelity. 

The memory of Newton H. Clark is fragrant where he 
was best known. " He sleeps upon the banks of the Ken- 
nebec. The last conflict with sin and temptation is over, 
and his ransomed spirit is before the throne clothed in 
white raiment, and joining with the redeemed in anthems 
of praise to Him who hath washed them from their sins in 
His own precious blood." 



SKETCHES. 55 



" Theirs was no common lot, 

Whom we today revere ; 
No sordid life, no useless work, 

Do we remember here. 

Their glorious fame we keep — 
What precious trust is ours ; 

' They softly lie and sweetly sleep ' — 
Their graves we deck with flowers." 




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